


For You, I'll Save Every Moment

by Patcho418



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, domestic bees, in which Yang gets down on one knee, lots of fluffy words sorry fam I just never really know when to shut up with words, so much damn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/pseuds/Patcho418
Summary: Blake brings a hand up in front of her eyes to shield them from the light; though she’s never been much of a morning person, today she reckons the universe wants her to be.She shifts into Yang’s hold, her arm already warm under the morning sunlight. “I thought you may have wanted to sleep in after last night.” Yang places a gentle kiss against Blake’s cheek, and she feels it right away: she’s shaking.Yang regains her composure, adjusting herself as much as she can under the weight of so many promises and memories in between her fingers.





	For You, I'll Save Every Moment

The soft golden haze of morning washes through the kitchen window. Blake brings a hand up in front of her eyes to shield them from the light; though she’s never been much of a morning person, today she reckons the universe wants her to be.

She moves through the vaguely familiar kitchen of Yang’s childhood home, searching for the tea bags she'd stored several days earlier when they’d arrived. The team had been invited to Signal to help Tai with teaching some courses that apparently would ‘really benefit from a working team’s expertise’. Ruby had obviously been more than excited to help her dad out at her old academy, and any chance to spend at the comfortable house on Patch was time well-spent.

Memories of the previous night loop in Blake’s mind as she finds the tea on the counter, obscured by several—okay, more than several—filthy dishes sitting just outside of the sink. She certainly remembers Yang preparing what was essentially a feast to reward the team for a hard week working with Tai’s students, and how their mini-feast turned into a bit of a party, complete with the family’s old CD’s, stories and memories shared, and perhaps just a little too much wine for Weiss.

She remembers Yang being uncharacteristically somber that night—no, not quite somber. Blake had kept a watch on Yang’s expression throughout the night, shifting from joyful to pensive in a flash she was positive the other two wouldn’t have caught. Questions about whether or not she was okay had been deflected without harshness, and Yang only smiled brightly when Blake looked too long at her. Even when they went to bed, she still held that pensive appearance until the moment she drifted off, her head against Blake’s shoulder and her arm curled around her chest.

Blake had stayed up far beyond that, her mind racing with thoughts and concerns about her partner. It wasn’t as if the week had been particularly challenging for either of them, nor had it really prompted much conversation from her. Not to say Yang has been cold or distant, but her mind is certainly elsewhere.

She starts filling the sink with water; it’s probably best to get these dishes done before Tai wakes up, and it’s not likely that Ruby or Yang will be up for a while. As the water and soap mix, she moves to place the kettle under the tap before bringing it to the stove and turning it on to boil. By the time she’s done, she can sit down with a cup of tea and enjoy the soft stillness the mornings of Patch have so graciously offered her before.

As she places a dirty tray into the sink, her ears flick towards the kitchen doorway, and she turns right before Yang yawns loudly and stretches her arm above her head. Unlike Blake, her eyes are wide and awake, and the soft glow of morning radiates off her messy golden bun.

“Morning, babe,” Yang greets with a pleasant grin, moving to take Blake in a heartfelt embrace. 

Blake shifts into Yang’s hold, her arm already warm under the morning sunlight. “I thought you may have wanted to sleep in after last night.” Yang places a gentle kiss against Blake’s cheek, and she feels it right away: she’s shaking.

If the blonde notices, she doesn’t bring it up, instead looking to the dishes soaking in the sink. “So you got up early to do dishes? How thoughtful.”

“Well, I thought someone had better do them before your dad wakes up. We’re lucky he even let us make so much.” Despite the sarcasm lacing her voice, Blake’s expression manages to retain its endeared smirk, though her eyes remain vigilant.

Yang nods cheerfully against Blake’s shoulder, but the laboured breaths betray any sense of ease around her. Normally the blonde is so transparent, her emotions displayed on her face, in her voice, but this anxious mask she wears now is so uncharacteristic of her. The sense that perhaps she’d done something to upset Yang recently gnaws at her mind, reaches for her heart and sends it racing against her chest.

Blake turns around, still held by her waist in Yang’s embrace, and the morning sunlight doesn’t dare abandon the blonde. She takes her in, all of her, scrutinizing every miniscule detail of her face and expression for even a hint of what’s troubling her. She follows the way her lilac eyes dart between her own and the sink before finally settling into her partner’s gaze. The way she breathes is slow, deliberate, her chest rising and falling.

She inhales, readying herself to unveil the issue, unmask her partner and see what she can do to help, if there is anything she can do. “Yang, are you okay?”

Yang’s mouth gives way to a gentle smirk while her eyes hold apprehension. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No lies, Yang. We promised,” she reminds her, reaching for her hand but instead meeting her wrist; her arm is pulled behind her sheepishly, hand dug into her back pocket. Blake’s eyes wander to her hip, hoping to get a glimpse as to why she’s hiding, but her eyes are drawn back to Yang’s sun-kissed cheeks.  
Blake’s hand retreats to the blonde’s jaw, fingers gently curling towards her cheekbones and the corner of her lips, and the hesitation is almost palpable, souring the sweet air that surrounds the woman.

Instead of answering, Yang gives Blake a soft grin of feigned comfort and looks back towards the sink. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Let me grab my arm and I’ll help you with those.”

Of course Blake is suspicious of the way Yang attempts her casual exit, of the way her steps are slow and cautious, as if she’s thinking between each one. She’s suspicious every time Yang turns to her with a wide, goofy grin and turns her attention back to the dishes when she meets Blake’s eyes. And, of course, that her hand never leaves her back pocket.

Blake hears footfalls on the wooden stairs and turns back to the dishes awaiting her attention in the soapy basin. A beam of gold permeates through the window, not relinquishing for a moment as the dark-haired woman begins scrubbing at the food residue on one of the trays. The birds outside sing their morning song, trees rustle in the faintest summer breeze, and Blake wonders what would Yang even want to hide from her?

The obvious and the less-obvious cross paths in her mind; the thought of something she may have done to upset Yang, or perhaps something outside of them? Something personal to the blonde that she’s so unwilling to share even with her. She thinks of black feathers, of red eyes and untempered flame, and she knows even then that would be something Yang would share with her in a heartbeat.

There are no secrets between them, so why should she start keeping her own now?

She shakes her head as she places the tray in the dishrack to dry. Blake had always kept her own privacy, always stewed on ideas and thoughts and memories locked far in her mind where no one could reach them. Dark thoughts that could be dissected, turned against her, used to break her friends’ trust in her, and Blake wouldn’t know what to do if they were revealed. But Yang had never pried, never prodded or inquired or forced the thoughts from her mind. Instead, she sat, waited, and smiled until there was no more reason for locks and keys and obscuring shadows. She knew even then that Yang would smile the same if Blake kept her secrets, and when they finally came to pass, that smile persisted, and she knew she could be safe.

But Blake had still kept her secrets, far longer than maybe Yang would have liked, and yet she had still offered her all the time the universe could spare for her to open up. What kind of partner would she be if she couldn’t spare some time for Yang’s secrets?

Another tray is placed into the rack, and Blake smiles at the thought that she could bend time for Yang, give her everything she needs to sort through what’s troubling her. Her ears flick towards the doorway as she hears footsteps stopping right before the kitchen, followed by shuffling and metallic whirring.

She rolls her eyes playfully and removes her hands from the sink. “Well you took your—”

Her words end as her lips part, breath caught inside her throat at the sight of Yang Xiao Long kneeling in the archway, a ring between her fingers.

The sun washes over them, putting them in the spotlight, and the universe holds its breath. Could Blake feel anything else right now, she would feel the trembling of her own hands against the kitchen counter, her fingers loosening their grip on the wood. Her heart races against her chest, and its faster and more full of love than she could have ever expected. Her knees lose any tension she might have otherwise ignored, and she’s glad that the wooden space exists behind her.

She feels none of it. Blake stares at the woman before her, her heart held so delicately in her hand, and she feels time stop just for them. Eternity passes around them, golden light that weaves around the blonde and keeping space for the earnest, frightened, and so very much in love expression she wears.

Blake takes a step forward, her fingers leaving the wooden counter, and her balance hitches for a moment; Yang’s lilac eyes remain fixed on her own, keeping her from falling to her knees. Another step, and she can feel some semblance of control returning to her legs when Yang’s nervous smile shines under the gold.

“I…” she begins, and suddenly they both stop, afraid to move with time, afraid to let this pass. But Blake knows, and she sees the ring again, and she knows that nothing in their life will simply pass anymore.

Yang regains her composure, adjusting herself as much as she can under the weight of so many promises and memories in between her fingers. “I had so much I wanted to say. I rehearsed it all over and over again in my head.” She breathes heavily, leaning closer as if desperate not to lose Blake. “But when I saw you this morning, I fell in love all over again, and none of those words could live up to how much I love you.”

Blake finally stumbles to her knees, catching herself on Yang’s quick arm and endeared gaze; her grip on Yang’s arm is soft, delicate, and yet she feels she could never let go. 

“Yang,” Blake breathes, her air finally released.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to imagine a life without you! So, Blake Belladonna,” she adjusts her arm again, and her voice lowers to the gentlest purr: “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” Blake says the word as if she would never get to speak it again. Her voice shakes with the excitement of it, the untempered, irrational, universal bliss of ‘yes’. The word feels etched into time as it feels etched onto her tongue, and she repeats it as often as she feels the universe will allow her to.

Yang’s eyes water and she smiles brighter than any sun as Blake reaches her hand out, allowing the blonde to slip the ebony band onto her finger, a golden stone preserving the moment like sunlight in early morning.

She dips into Yang’s embrace, the blonde’s strong arms wrapping around her in a tight, longing embrace as she cries tears of pure happiness into Blake’s midnight hair. She chuckles into Yang’s shoulder, unsure of whether to cry herself, laugh, smile, and so she simply places her lips to Yang’s neck, planting ecstatic kisses up towards her jaw as she feels her pulse racing against her lips. She makes her way to Yang’s ear, nudging aside perfect golden locks with her nose before a delicate kiss is planted on her earlobe.

“I don't want a a life without you, either,” she murmurs softly.

Yang chuckles through her sobs. “You already said ‘yes’, Blake!”

Blake takes Yang’s head in her hands, stroking back her gorgeous mane, and her thumbs draw lines back and forth on her reddened cheeks. “And I mean it.” With a heartfelt attempt at a teasing smile, she adds: “I’ll be your Mrs. Blake Xiao Long.”

“What if I wanted to be your Mrs. Yang Belladonna?” she quips, her voice clear and shimmering.

Blake hardly fights the urge to pull her into an embrace again, so in love that she can’t even think of letting go for any moment in time, so overcome by affection and bliss that she wouldn’t know what to do if she dared let go in this moment.

Gold is quickly joined by scarlet as her ears flick upwards towards the stairs. Her and Yang glance in the direction of their intrusion, seeing a somewhat tired-looking Ruby standing at the base.

“Could you turn the kettle off, Yang? Some of us actually want to sleep in!”

Blake and Yang turn towards each-other, and Blake suddenly remembers the kettle on the stove whistling its suddenly-painful tone. She deftly leaps to her feet and removes the kettle from the heat, her motions swift and practiced.

Yang stands to join her at her side as Blake breathes a sigh of relief. Ruby enters the kitchen, moving towards the fridge, and her silver eyes widen when she sees Blake’s hand on the kettle.

Her attention shifts to Yang, who smirks impishly at her sister. “Did you—?”

“Yup.”

Now Blake falls under her silver gaze, her jaw dropping further by the second. “And you said—?”

Blake smiles, and the word isn’t lost on her. “Yes.”

Before either can react, a flash of rose petals fills the doorway and Ruby rushes up the stairs with such speed Blake can feel the wind in her hair. A moment passes for cacophony rings out from upstairs, a chorus of tired groans and ecstatic shouting followed by various calls of excitement.

“It’s about time, you two!”

“Oh, my Sunny Little Dragon! Ruby, where’s my camera? I need to catch this!”

“Use your scroll, dad! You’re already missing it!”

Blake settles into Yang’s side, warm under the morning sun, and briefly catches the blonde’s smirk before she begins to chuckle. Her fingers twine with Yang’s, the band gliding against metal fingers.

“I thought we’d at least get a few more minutes alone,” Yang mentions sarcastically, but the way she holds onto Blake is gentle and reassured.

“Well,” Blake begins, looking down at the light reflecting against yellow metal fingers and swirling inside a golden stone—a moment caught in time, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon. We have all the time in the world left for us.”

Sunlight washes over them both, preserving the moment in gold.


End file.
